LOREN
Loren smiled at Rexanna when she suggested he summon the phoenix at what might be the climax of the entire ceremony. ”I can certainly do that. After all, us Launceleyns are quite, quite good at creating drama.” It probably wasn’t the wisest comment for him to make, considering everything Zariah had done—and despite his own tendency to make problems for his friends and loved ones—and it was a feeble joke at best. But he felt he needed some levity, some humor, before he surrendered his body and his mind to the blue-eyed woman.”Sounds like I might not have a choice in the matter.” Again, his attempt at joking fell a little flat. However, at least he was trying to go into this with as open a mind as possible: not only did he need to find a way past his own mental issues for the good of the Hollowed Grounds, he also knew it was important for him, personally, to learn how to accept touch and pleasure of all kinds. That didn’t mean it was easy for him. Indeed, as he rolled up his left sleeve (incidentally exposing the scars there, though they were the farthest thing on his mind), he found his heart pounding in his chest and his breath coming more quickly. Rexanna could probably see the latter in the way the clouds of white from the cold appeared more frequently.
Looking down, Loren gazed into the mists under the bridge that were barely visible in the moonlight. For some reason he felt that if he didn’t watch the bite happen, maybe the effects would be less powerful. Objectively, he knew that wasn’t true, but subjectively he needed all the help he could get.
A beggar's book
outworths
a noble's blood
